


How does a shark greet a fish? Pleased to eat you!

by eydika



Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Breathplay, Choking, Control, F/F, I have no idea what I'm doing, Kissing, Power Dynamics, Powerplay, Scratching, Vaginal Fingering, no betas we die like men, shark-wife!, superhero/supervillain - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 22:27:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20713532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eydika/pseuds/eydika
Summary: A sparring session between Lady Argent and Sidestep got a little bit out of hand - not that Sidestep minds...Might turn into a small story collection at some point? Who knows? I don't.





	How does a shark greet a fish? Pleased to eat you!

You did not expect to like it. 

Her hand around your throat.

Sharp nails pressing lightly into your skin. Not hard enough to hurt you (yet), but hard enough to leave light pink scratches on the soft skin of your neck.

You swallow hard and you know she feels it under the palm of her hand and a shark-like smile lights up her hard, metallic features. You lick your lips and your thoughts run wild; you don’t remember how – why? – you ended up like this.

You see a distorted version of yourself on her face – red cheeks, droplets of sweat on your forehead, you try to ignore the obvious bedroom eyes you make at her and, oh, your lower lip is bleeding. You must’ve bitten on it too hard when you tried to concentrate. She makes that hard for you. Concentrating.

Not that you trying that did you any good. Because now you are on the ground, her strong body over her, trapping you and there is no way out. You don’t mind.

Your shirt sticks to your back – cold with sweat – and the cool sensation against your hot skin sends shivers down your spine.

She notices. Of course.

“If you wanted my hand on your throat, you could’ve just asked, you know,” she purrs. It’s a hard purr, dangerous. Not that of a cat, not trying to sound flirty. She doesn’t need to. The purr reminds you of that of a predator – as does her dangerously beautiful smile – and the excited glimmer in her eyes shows you that’s exactly what she is. A predator. And you’re the prey.

You promised yourself to never feel like prey again, and yet, here you are, and you feel good.

Your fingertips tingle and you reach out, reach out to touch her, but you hesitate and instead, you place your hand around her wrist, softly as if you’re afraid of ruining the moment (maybe you are), near your throat and you can feel your own racing heartbeat.

Your racing heartbeat. That’s embarrassing, but she doesn’t care.

“Where’s the fun in that,” you croak. Your voice is hoarse and you’re not sure if it’s from her strong hand around your throat or the excitement that tingles in your stomach (or is it lower?).

“This  _ was _ pretty fun,” she admits and you’re not sure if she’s talking about what’s happening right now or what happened just a few moments prior. You scan her mind, a light touch to get a feeling, and it seems like she doesn’t know either. Her tongue shoots out to lick over her lower lip and you wonder how her lips would feel against yours. Cold, hard? Just as impossibly smooth as her hand? Her tongue is so very distracting, as is the low shimmer of saliva on her lips.

“Not that you would stand a chance against me.” Her tone is teasing but her face is serious before her predatory smile appears again. The same smile that makes you want to crawl out of your skin and run, but at the same time, it makes you want to stay right here – under her, under her control, helpless and with no way out (the tingling excitement in your stomach doesn’t stop).

You smile and your fingertips prickle. Your gaze flickers to her eyes again, away from her lips. Good. Less distractions (or maybe more?).

“If it’s so fun, why don’t we go for another round?” You don’t know what you’re referring to, but it doesn’t matter.

Hell, her face is so close to yours now. The tips of your noses are almost touching and you can feel her hot breath against your lips. Her shimmering hair (you wonder how it feels, how would it feel if you run your fingers through her hair?) falls around the two of you like a curtain and your breath hitches at the closeness.

She looks down – or does she close her eyes? You can’t tell and why does your heart beat so fast? – and you almost miss how she shakes her head.

“I have something in mind that’s a lot more fun.”

You open your mouth but no answer comes out. She still looks at you, not a single muscle moving and smiles. You get nervous under her, your fingertips twitching around her wrist.

So you lean up – did you read the situation right? Your thoughts are a mess and so are hers and you have no idea what she wants.

_ Fight! _ you pick up, over and over again and you don’t know what it means. Not that it matters.

You barely graze her lips before she pulls back, eyeing you, a satisfied smile on her lips (those lips you really want to kiss).

“You don’t think I would let you win, do you?”

“Wha-“ 

_ Fight. Control. Win. _

Her hold on your throat grows stronger, your question stops before it really started.

_ Tease. Kiss. Win. _

So that’s what she wants. You read the situation right (almost).

She has you, you both know that (she wins, does she?). You are in no condition to move away from her, to change the power dynamics or – as of just now – lean up and kiss her because her hand presses you down on the training mattress (why did you even agree to sparring with her?) you’re lying on. 

Scratching against your hips and you try to look down, but you can’t (she doesn’t let you) and the scratching goes down, down, along with the move of her shoulder (it’s her hand, you realize), before her fingers (claws) let the waistband of your pants snap against your skin.

You gasp. Why does this turn you on? Control is your thing, the thing that you need in life, at all times, and yet you feel yourself getting hotter, your heart beating faster (so fast) and your breath becoming shallow.

You smile and so does she.

_ Her. _ is the thought that runs through her mind and you can see your helpless self on her skin (and also through her eyes if you could only concentrate but you can’t). It should make you feel miserable, weak, but it doesn’t. You feel good

“What are you waiting for, then” you whisper.

She cocks her head, smiling down at you.

“So impatient,” she says but you feel her claws scratch over your skin again, fumbling with your waistband and then they’re gone. You’re almost disappointed (you almost pout) and open your mouth to protest, because how dare she? Teasing you like that and then just stopping, but, oh, you feel it.

You feel her.

You feel her hand.

Her hand – it’s cold, colder than yours and you’re not sure if she just has cold hands or if it’s because of her mesmerizing inhuman skin – slowly moves under the waistband of your pants (no, you think, the waistband of your panties) and you suck in an excited breath. Your heart is beating fast and you can feel it in your throat and you’re sure she can feel it in the fingertips that are still pressing into your throat.

It’s going slow, so slow and you writhe under her hands but the pressure around your throat only gets stronger and then (finally) her cool fingertips touch your core and you involuntarily buck your hips against her hand (you’re sure you’ll be embarrassed by your neediness later), but she pushes her hand – pushes your hips – down, down, against the ground and you hold your breath, thoughts racing (how does she do that to you?) and then two of her fingers enter you and you want to scream.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this! If you have any critic points feel free to share. Also, if you have any ideas - pwease - I need them.


End file.
